


Shifter

by RAAMIsABeast



Series: Short Story Collection [11]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Shapeshifting, Veterinary Clinic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 09:17:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15815961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RAAMIsABeast/pseuds/RAAMIsABeast
Summary: Standing up straight from bending to search for a shirt for the shifter, Alan looked down slightly, to meet the other's unwavering gaze. Now, after a few hours of being in the shifter's presence, Alan noticed that, beyond watching him dry him off or glancing up at the room number, the shifter had been observing his face the entire time.





	Shifter

Working with exotic beasts and even supernatural creatures always meant that the work day was interesting. Maybe a small dragon learning to fly again after breaking its wing escapes into the corridors or a water beast steals something from a passing vet.

Of course, there are sometimes very strange things which come through the medical centre. Not too long ago, one of the vets had an encounter with a sporadic shapeshifter who was always changing her form. Eventually, her problem was found to be a seemingly unimportant injury to her spine. It had been a little chip, normal for a being who's form twisted and contorted into new forms, so the vet had thought nothing of it on the scan.

But the chipped bone had in fact lodged next to her spinal cord and resulted in what she called "a really bad and unreachable twitchy itch" and she had been shifting to try and dislodge it.

A minor massage and spinal popping later and the chip had made its new home next to where it had come from. The bone would most likely absorb it back and fix the chip in time.

But thinking back on another shape shifter with a back problem wouldn't be any help for Alan. Mainly because this shapeshifter seemed to have dislocated a disk or even broken its back. Maybe it didn't even have anything wrong with it. Being a squishy but unconscious fish really didn't help at all.

Pinching the tail fin of the shifter, Alan jumped back when the tail flapped around. Alright. So maybe the boat crashing into its side had no real side effects beyond KOing it.

Managing to lift the nearly 8ft fish and slip it into the shallow water tank in the next room over, Alan checked out his biceps and guessed that the fish was easily 80kg at the least.

"Man am I glad I work out."

He chuckled, picking up fish scales from his sleeves and shirt before deciding to just swap his top half.

However, he legally couldn't leave the fish until it regained consciousness and showed it had the mental awareness to shift back to human. So he would have to deal with scales until then.

Although... Alan could take off his shirt to individually pluck each scale out, rather than try and not prick himself with hard to reach ones. Yeah.

Slipping off his shirt and settling cross-legged by the pool, Alan started to tediously free the lost scales of the shifter from the fabric, making a pile next to him for the bin later.

One of them took a lot to get out and Alan focused on wriggling the scale from the seam it had somehow wedged in. So much so that he didn't notice the fish swimming around until a hand landed on his leg and _squeezed._

Shouting in surprise, Alan would have jumped to his feet had he not suddenly had half a man resting on his legs, shakily climbing from the pool.

"Woah, woah. Take it easy."

Alan let go of his shirt to help the shifter get out of the pool and, when the hand let go of his leg, walked to the towel rack near the door and brought over two large towels. One to place on the cool floor and one to cover the shifter and dry him.

With the towel draped over his shoulders and in easy reach, Alan thought the shifter would at least attempt to dry his arms and face. Instead he sat there, on the towel, merely flicking one of the corners in his grip before looking up at Alan.

Green-brown eyes watched the vet with partial awareness. So, he hadn't fully come out of his unconsciousness yet then.

"Alright, let's get your dried. Don't want you catching a cold, do we?"

The shifter's head tilted to the left before he held out the towel on his shoulders for Alan to take. Alan gently dried his hands and arms first, going down his back before patting dry the shifter's chest. A multitude of scars littered this particular shifter, ranging from claws to bites to stab wounds to bullet holes.

"Been in the wars, have you?"

"Yes."

Alan hadn't expected the answer, tensing in his quest to dry the male's legs - avoiding his crotch because that's not for Alan to dry - and glancing up at his face. He was regarding Alan, though still not fully aware. Maybe the boat had given him a concussion? At least there was communication.

"I meant that figuratively."

"I know."

"So why say yes?"

The shifter blinked slowly but didn't answer. Not while Alan helped him stand and gave him a towel to wrap around his waist for privacy. Not while Alan showed him to a room where he would recover. And not while Alan disappeared into a store cupboard on the way to swap his scaly shirt for a clean one.

It was only as Alan and the shifter worked on finding something to fit him at he spoke again.

"Would it matter if I had been in wars?"

The question threw Alan off guard and he glanced at the shifter again. His eyes showed he was fully aware now, most likely had been for some time, and his left hand came up to move some light brown hair. Apart from a nose which had obviously had a run through the mill more than just a few times, the shifter looked way too young to have been in any wars.

"The last war was over 100 years ago..."

Standing up straight from bending to search for a shirt for the shifter, Alan looked down slightly, to meet the other's unwavering gaze. Now, after a few hours of being in the shifter's presence, Alan noticed that, beyond watching him dry him off or glancing up at the room number, the shifter had been observing his face the entire time.

Feeling slightly uneasy about that, the vet tried to brush it off as the shifter watching him for lies or to keep an eye on someone he'd just met.

"And you don't look old enough to have been in a war."

The shifter observed the slightly taller human for a full minute before he threw his head back and laughed, almost harshly.

"Oh you humans never cease to amuse me."

Another laugh. Another wave of nervousness.

"Even with how easily you die in a war."

"W-what?"

Alan hoped he'd heard incorrectly. Because if he hadn't, he was in a small confined space with a shifter who had it out for humanity. And the shifter was between Alan and the door.

But the shifter changed the subject, green-brown eyes flicking to the shirt in Alan's clenched hands.

"My chest is getting rather cold."

The human slowly stepped closer and offered the shirt to the shifter, who tried it on but took it off again.

"Too tight."

Nodding, Alan turned around to find a bigger shirt when a clawed hand wrapped around his shirt collar. Choking, Alan managed to move backwards and turn to face the shifter.

"This one is the right size."

And oh God he was smiling. And not a nice smile either. Oh no, this smile was one with the sharpened teeth shimmering and the thin, pale pink lips twisted in a cruel imitation of a good natured smile.

"And only this one."

"B-but this is my shirt..."

And here he was, buff 6ft 4 Alan, intimidated by a 5ft 10 or 11 shifter with more bones on him than muscle mass. Even now, with the claw-like nails of the shifter resting on his collarbone, Alan couldn't help but notice that the shifter was underweight. Or of a really slim body type.

"Alan, right?"

Hearing his name and feeling hot, unnaturally sweet breath smack him in the face - when had the shifter brought their faces so close together?! - Alan was brought back from his little analysis of the shifter's weight and tried to pull away.

"I saw your name on the note you wrote down to give this room to me."

The shifter tugged on his shirt, not to pull him but to remind him of why the fabric was in its grasp in the first place. Sensing no escape, Alan sighed and slipped from the shirt. He'd have to find a shirt to slip on once the shifter let him leave.

The shirt covered the shifter and flowed down, too big for his slim frame.

"Will you visit again, Alan? I like the size of your shirts."

Curious, Alan asked why and got a laugh. He never got a straight answer though.


End file.
